


this kiss is something i can't resist (your lips are undeniable)

by orphan_account



Series: we'll be looking for sunlight, or the headlights (till our wide eyes burn blind) [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Canon Compliant, Declarations Of Love, Drama & Romance, Emotional Sex, Endearments, Falling In Love, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Love, Morning After, Morning Kisses, Morning Sex, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Rimming, Romance, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shower Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Summer Love, Summer Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 00:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12737259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Oliver and Elio spend a long weekend in France, exploring the city and just being in love.Sequel to:keep me by your side. You don't necessarily need to read the first series but it probably would help!





	this kiss is something i can't resist (your lips are undeniable)

**Author's Note:**

> So, after speaking to Ella, a commenter (thank you by the way!), I realised that instead of following other people's interpretations, I should just do what I wanted. 
> 
> So, for this, I've clearly stated that Elio and Oliver have been with women before, which was obvious from the book/film. 
> 
> I decided to address it here because it wasn't fair of me to not beforehand, as I just went along with the assumption that Elio was a "gay man" as it has been stated by Luca, (who's a mastermind and I don't know better than him), but for the sake of this story and being true to the characters, I've added that in here. 
> 
> This has been a learning curve for me. I have edited parts in my other stories to make it clearer but if there's still things that are wrong or seem off, let me know. 
> 
> Any mistakes are my own. I own no one. If anything in here is incorrect - as about laws regarding LGBTQ+ in the 80's in France - let me know.

* * *

Oliver had planned it all.

He wanted to treat Elio to something and seen as he loved art, beauty and nature, he figured this was the best present he could ever get his lover. Oliver watched as Elio slept next to him, chest rising and falling, the younger man’s hair was fanned out on the pillow, curly locks kissing his forehead as he dreamt. Oliver wondered what he dreamed of, what he saw and where he went. If he went home, travelled the seas and basked in the glow of the sun. If his dreams were as colourful as his bright eyes, if the places he touched and people he met in the clouds were anything like the people he talked to in his classes.

“I’m every bit in love with you,” Oliver whispered, kissing Elio’s temple, echoing his lover’s words from a couple of weeks ago.

Elio turned in his sleep and nuzzled into Oliver’s chest, hands clutching at his arms. The adorable pout on his lips made Oliver want to kiss him all over his body like he had spent an hour before bed. He ran his fingertips over the love bites he’d left on Elio’s stomach, on his hipbones and ribcage.

Only two hours ago, he’d been wrapped up in Elio’s arms, panting into the brunette’s ear as their bodies were joined. Even with the condom separating them, Oliver would never get over the feeling of being inside Elio, being inside that warm body, almost as if he could touch the stars he could see in Elio’s eyes, almost as if he could touch Elio’s heart and take it for himself. Look after it, like he hadn’t looked after his own heart. But that was Elio’s job now.

Making love was always intimate, it was always overpowering and all consuming. The way Elio’s back would arch when Oliver sucked on his puckered rim, the way he clawed at Oliver’s back when Oliver was inside him, he would never get over the sight. It was pure beauty. Elio, spread out, or on top of him, panting his pleasure at the ceiling, completely lost to the world.

He held all the cards in his hands, he took and gave, his beautiful mind and words and heart consumed Oliver and Oliver was helpless, giving him whatever he wanted. Oliver was a naturally gifted person, who was able to charm and win over the people around him.

Elio drank that up, seemed thirsty for the effortlessness Oliver seemed to hold (it wasn’t effortless and half the time, he felt tired and overcome with pressure), just as Oliver was for Elio’s captivating mind. Elio loved how sure Oliver seemed about himself, for his confidence, but when they fell into bed together, Oliver was like a breathless man, dying to breathe, if Elio would let him.

He would do anything he could for the man, be anything he could, make him feel as good and free and loved as he did when Elio wanted Oliver’s hands all over him.  

He didn’t deserve Elio, he really didn’t.

And so the fact that Elio gave him the time of day, made his heart sing.

He was guided by the moans and whimpers that blessed his ears, wanting to hear those sounds always. He loved giving Elio pleasure, in whatever way he could. His own was secondary to making the other man feel good. And make no mistake, Elio was able to make Oliver punch out sounds that he never thought he’d utter; he’d never experienced sex in such an intimate way.

Perhaps, it was because he actually loved Elio. He hadn’t loved the people he’d been with before, not his ex-girlfriend or the secret affairs he’d had with men while he was at university. Elio was different, he was his, just as much as Oliver was Elio’s.

“You’re staring,” Elio mumbled. He opened his eyes and a soft, sleepy smile swam its way onto his lips. “How long have you been awake?”

Oliver smiled, kissing his forehead, “not long. You’re adorable when you sleep.”

Elio blushed and ducked his head, “am I not, when I’m awake too?”

Oliver chuckled, pulling Elio on top of him, so that the smaller man was straddling his chest. “Did I say you weren’t?”

Elio ducked down and kissed him.

Sleep could wait.

*

They had the whole weekend away.

It was a long weekend, Friday and Monday included. And Elio’s birthday fell on the Sunday. Oliver had booked them a trip to France to visit the Eiffel Tower and The Louvre with a beautiful dinner planned that evening. It was currently Friday afternoon and the sights were booked and paid for.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Elio said as they walked into their hotel room for the weekend. “A book as a present would have been enough.”

Oliver smiled, “oh, I bought you a gift too.”

Elio looked at him and then surged up and hugged him tightly. “Well, thank you.” Oliver wrapped his arms around the smaller male and held him closer.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Oliver chuckled, kissing his temple and squeezed gently, tightly and then span him around playfully.

“What will we do for Saturday?” Elio asked, drawing back only to look at his face, breathless, laughing into Oliver’s shoulder.

“We can explore the city,” Oliver said, “it’s the City of Love after all.” Oliver grinned down at him. Elio bit his bottom lip playfully and then reached up and kissed him.

“City of Love,” Elio repeated against his mouth.

*

When Elio woke on the morning of his birthday, he felt fingertips trailing up his thighs.

He smiled to himself and looked down. Oliver’s head was on his stomach and his warmth was all around him. He had never felt so safe and loved and warm. Oliver’s breath fanned out on his stomach, tickling him like his fingers did when they played. How had he nearly lost this? How could have he almost lost Oliver to someone else?

Oliver kissed his stomach and when he felt Elio stir above him, he turned his face to look up at him.

“Morning, baby,” Oliver said, eyes light. He leaned up, hovering over Elio and kissed his forehead, then his cheeks and neck, “happy birthday.”

Elio preened and arched his back into Oliver’s hold, “thank you.” Oliver nipped at his neck and then jaw and littered his path with kisses before pressing his mouth squarely on Elio’s.

The morning melted away into the background and Elio’s birthday began with his heart beating rapidly out of his chest.

*

After breakfast in bed, they showered together, sweat and come washing down the drain. They had been quiet when they made love earlier, even though Elio liked to drown in pleasure and sometimes sobs crawled out of his throat. Happy, pleasured sobs.

Sobs that flew out of his body as Oliver’s tongue delved into him under the spray of the water and tasted him as if he were eating honey, as if he was the sweetest thing he’d ever feasted on. He clawed at the shower walls, just like he had done in the bed, not ten minutes ago when Oliver had made love to him so gently that tears rolled down his cheeks.

He had never felt pleasure like that before. Not when he was with Marzia, not when he was kissing her or holding her. He knew pleasure with her, he knew what it felt like to fall for another human being that wasn’t Oliver. But his love, his need for Oliver was far more powerful than anything he had ever felt, his love ran deep, like the blood in his veins, like the light in his eyes.

He wasn’t in love with Marzia, not when they were together. He knew he had liked her but then Oliver came in the picture and things changed and now he couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.

He clamped his hand over his mouth, muffling his cries as the man on his knees made him see stars in the showerhead above him and his back arched. His knees felt like they were about to collapse when Oliver let up from his rim and took him down his throat, swallowing his come, until he himself came, messing up the shower’s floor, until the remnants of their love making disappeared down the drain. Oliver always treated him so well and he was more than happy to pleasure Elio before himself. As it was, Elio had found that being eaten out was one of his favourite ways to experience pleasure.

Still, they were careful. Disposing of the condom Oliver had used before, keeping their voices muffled by skin and lips. Even when Oliver had booked the room, it was with two beds. Even when they were out and exploring the city, they were careful. They were both so used to being secretive that doing so, was second nature. Even though France had always been traditionally liberal, with same sex activity being legal since 1791, there was a discriminating, indecent exposure law which wrongfully targeted LGBTQ+ people from the 1960s until it was repealed in 1980 and the age of consent was equalised in 1982. Views were changing and even though there were thriving LGBTQ+ communities, Oliver and Elio still felt as though the people around them would judge them.

Hence, all the precautions. Of course, they didn’t actually sleep in the separate beds, rather pushed them together at night.

“Happy birthday,” Oliver said into his mouth when he stood on his feet and kissed Elio under the spray of water. Elio moaned into their kiss, tasting himself on Oliver’s tongue.

“I love you,” Elio gasped when Oliver’s mouth trailed down his neck, kissing that spot behind his ear that he loved, legs shaking. Oliver looped his arms around the other male and held him against his body so he wouldn’t fall.

“Love you too, Oliver,” Oliver whispered against his skin, humming like a songbird when Elio’s body melted against his. Like he always did and always would.

*

Elio’s nineteenth birthday was one of his best. Maybe it was the best ever. They spent the day out, going all the way up to the Eiffel tower and took pictures where they could. The sights were beautiful and Elio felt like his heart was expanding out of his chest when Oliver stood beside him and wrapped his arm around his shoulders in front of the people around them.

To them, it looked platonic, but Elio knew it was so much more. The air in his face, the soft smell of a city buzzing, the feeling of Oliver next to him, of being near each other, felt like the fireworks that his parents often showed off for his birthday. Except this time, the fireworks that exploded on the sky, paints spraying out into the heavens, were in the touch of Oliver’s skin and his soft words in his ear.

Then they spent the afternoon exploring The Louvre.

Someone had spotted them and came up to Oliver to ask about his book. She was a young woman with a round face and seemed to be in awe of Oliver.

“I just, loved your book,” she said, her eyes were wide and Elio smiled to himself. He loved watching Oliver interact with other people, especially when he was avidly talking about his work. “It was published here only a couple of weeks ago and we read it for our semester.”

Oliver smiled, cheeks reddened, “well, thank you.”

“Are you writing more?” she asked. She had green eyes and full lips. Elio stood by Oliver self-consciously for a moment before Oliver wrapped his arm around his shoulders and brought him in closer. It made his stomach flutter happily when Oliver held him like that in public.

When he was expressive and able to be free with him, to hold him and kiss him and make him see that he wasn’t ever going to leave him. Elio loved it.

He looked up at Oliver and smiled, a little dazed and put his face on Oliver’s shoulder. His heart thudded in his chest.

“I am, I’ve just published a second book. It should be coming to France soon,” he replied. She grinned and thanked him and then kissed both of their cheeks before moving on.

“You’re famous,” Elio teased. An inkling of self-doubt crept in and he wondered if Oliver liked her in the way he had liked him when he first saw him.

“You don’t need to worry, baby,” Oliver whispered, kissing his forehead, stroking his cheek. Elio felt a warm tingling inside his body, inside his bones. He would never get used to this.

“I know, sometimes, I worry,” Elio put his face in Oliver’s chest. People walked by them like it was nothing new and someone even smiled at Oliver. Elio blushed. “I just…don’t want to lose you.”

Oliver cupped his face, “you won’t. I promise.”

Elio smiled despite the doubt in his mind, pushing himself closer into Oliver’s hold. He was so warm and strong and _sure_ and Elio loved that about him.

“Now, let’s enjoy your birthday,” Oliver ducked down and kissed his forehead.

*

The gallery hosted some of the most spectacular pieces of art and architecture. So much of it, Elio’s wide eyes ate up, hungry for the beauty that surrounded them. But nothing quite compared to having dinner with Oliver under the stars with the Eiffel Tower in the background.

From here they could see the city coming to life, the Eiffel Tower behind them and the world in front of them. Candlelight lit up the restaurant they were in.

Oliver had bought him a couple of books and figurines that he knew he would love; little trinkets for him to hold dear and a poem hand written on what love was.

“I thought things like this only happened in films or books,” Elio whispered against Oliver’s mouth, after they’d eaten and had cake and wine and he’d opened his presents.

“Maybe this is our turn at a life like that,” Oliver said gently, cupping his face, stroking back his hair.

“Our turn at Romeo and Juliet,” Elio replied. The candle between them danced like Elio’s beating heart.

“Except without the tragic deaths,” Oliver grinned.

Elio nodded, nuzzling his nose against Oliver’s. “Except without the tragic deaths.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are appreciated!


End file.
